Digital Raven (digitalraven) wrote,
Digital Raven

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Yet more whining

The Short Form
Amount of work done so far = 0
Amount of productive thoughts so far = 0
Amount of nights I've gone to sleep here being sober = 0
Amount of times I've wanted to bury my thumbs in someone's eye sockets = 5

The Long Form
I've got nothing done whilst I've been home. Nothing at all, work related at least. Which is a real pain when I need to get not only vast swathes of my dissertation fixed and written, but also all of my AI assignment and this one's nowhere near as simple as the essay. Problem is, I can't get into a working frame of mind when all I have in front of me is the lapdog. No books, no tech, just the lapdog. It's driving me nuts, but I just can't get into a work-based mind-space. What doesn't help is that I keep getting dragged out of the house. Yesterday it was to replenish the booze supply and to watch the 'rents spending two hours looking at garden furniture. Today was to spend an hour dicking around in one of these clothes shops that doesn't even sell proper fucking black jeans, just some shit made out of what feels like felt, nothing leather, no boots. Just shit jeans. At least I got the food for tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, that's got a massive hole whilst I go get my wisdom teeth looked at. it's impossible to get a day to myself, not interrupted by the damn parentals or what they think I should be doing. Fuckers.

Not only that but they're going on more and more about the two topics they know are going to piss me off: The war[1] and jobs. And they refuse to let it go, ever. They also refuse to listen. It's the great debating tactic, the only one they ever use. First, they try leading the argument to something they can actually attack, rather than defending something that will make them seem moronic. Then when that doesn't work, they go on and on about me not taking into account their opinion, which I've not heard because I've been talking too much. Regardless of the fact that most of the talking I have done is shooting down their attempts to stop them sidetracking everything. Never mind that it would be an event of apocalyptic proportions for them to bother with anything I have ever said. I've not listened to their opinion on the subject. I'll freely admit to not listening to it this time. Because it's wrong. Don't give me that shit about "There's no such thing as a wrong opinion". My opinion is therefore that the sky is pink, the moon is a ball of rat shit, and people are four-armed, six-eyed insects from Uranus. It may be my opinion but it's still fucking wrong. But I am being sidetracked. I'm not listening to their crap mainly because they're not listening to me. They hear what I say, they can regurgitate it an hour later, but they don't understand a word of it for all their protestations, and they've been like this since I've been born. They hear without listening. And by fuckery that pisses me off because I happen to know a fair thing and they might well find what I have to say intelligent. But they'll never listen to a word I say. Hence why I don't get to sit out of any of the shopping trips or other drains on my time. I'm being "antisocial". With a society like this it's the only way to remain sane, and even now I'm raging, the core of my being consumed once more with fires of anger...

Fuck, coming back home has turned me into a stupid 14 year old bitch again. Now you see why I wish random violence on people. Believe me, it would be a welcome release.

My brain's betraying me. My mind is refusing to work the way I need it to. I can't even concentrate on imagining things the way I normally can. I've got my paper copies of my System Shock game with me. I've also got the Thatcherite setting I want to work with. As if. I'm imagining stuff for a comic I wanted to write (material that's no good for Option X) or for a really old Trinity conversion I was wanting to work on. Nothing that I can *use*. Damn brain. I want a new one...

Now. Just time for a quiz before I drink myself into happy oblivion. Go on, take it. Give me some illusion of popularity or sex appeal by taking a random Internet test and letting me know of the results...

I'm an apparently intelligent, liberal, tight as fuck, relatively well adjusted human being!
See how compatible you are with me!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

[1]: Any comments about that on this journal and I'll hunt you down, cut you open and watch you get fucked to death by decaying zombies who'll break off in the wounds. I'm fucking serious.

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